Piranha
by Supersaladme
Summary: Mycroft is sick, dying of a terminal illness, and with John and Sherlock away he has no one he truly trusts to take care of him. Besides the two of them, everyone else is a simple gold fish. Everyone except Greg Lestrade.


Greg Lestrade, Detective Inspector of the New Scotland Yard, had been through a lot. He's seen the worst of murders, the scariest of robberies, the sketchiest of people, and has been in the direst of situations, but none of that had ever prepared him for this phone call, nothing could have. Glancing up, he forgot where he was for a moment, in front of him stood an annoyed Sally Donovan who look like she would kick him in the arse if he didn't hurry up and get into the building they were standing before. Then, his thought process came back to him. They are at a bank robbery.

"Lestrade," She barks and stares at him with piercing eyes which sends an immediate series of chills down his back. The woman scared him. "Drop the call, there's about fifteen hostages we need to attend to." Immediately, she registers the conflict that was plainly pasted across his face and then growls between her teeth. "I swear to god, if you're gonna give up the rep for Sherlock _bloody_ Holmes I will kill you."

By now he had already lowered the phone from his ear and the call time had reached _3:56. _Rocking on his heels he took in a deep breath and used his thumb to cover the microphone with his thumb although it was beside his thigh and impossible for Mycroft to hear anything from his line. "Listen," He said quietly, not wanting anyone but her to hear. "I have the British Government on my cell, Mycroft _bloody _Holmes, not Sherlock."

Although Sally didn't really partake in the crazy world that Greg had to live through she was well aware of whom Mycroft Holmes was, everyone in London knew who Mycroft Holmes was. A moment passed and she stood there staring at him with her wicked eyes.

"Fine," She shouts, throwing her arms in the air and bolting up the stairs, ducking under police tape. A few officers turn to look at them before getting back to work and Greg sighs, "But, if you ever and I mean **ever **ditch a robbery for one of the Holmes ever again I will lose it." She ran off to another group of officers before Greg ducked into the car and steadily lifted the phone to his ear which was still on, but now read _8:49. _

"Sorry, I was help up by work." Greg tried to bring up the most official voice he could and waited, realizing how weird that must've sounded. _Sorry, at work? _He thought miserably, thinking that he sounded like a husband having an affair behind his wife's back.

Mycroft wasn't responding and he began to think that he hung up on him. Cursing under his breath, he went to hang up the phone before hearing heavy breathing in the back ground. An instinct kicked in and he put the keys in the ignition, trying to pinpoint on why he would be breathing so hard. Was he being attacked? Was he having some sort of heart attack? He had to restrain from yelling into the phone and took a deep breath trying to remain calm.

"Mycroft, are you still there?"

Heavy breathing. "If you-" More heavy breathing. "Ever-" The heavy breathing continued. "Call me Mycroft again," There was one more deep breath before he finally composed himself. "I will make sure your life becomes a living hell."

Greg grits his teeth. He could put up with Sherlock, Sherlock was just impolite and very straight forward, but when it came down to it he knew the Sherlock had a heart and whenever Greg was threatened by him he knew the threats were really empty because, what could he do? Mycroft was an entire different ball game. Mycroft was alike as Sherlock in many ways, but unlike his younger brother, he had the authority to put meaning into his threats.

"Well, what do I call you, Mr. Holmes?" Just because Mycroft possessed all the power in London didn't mean that he couldn't hate him and his wealthy arse.

"Doesn't matter," He snaps, Greg wishes to wring the man's neck but instead grabs the steering wheel, holding it as tight as he can, "What does matter is that you'll be staying with me for the next few days.

Greg almost drops the phone and takes in a sharp breath. "And why's that?"

"I'm going to need assistance for the next few months and I don't trust anyone that works for me, so when I called Sherlock's cell and demanded him to come and see me he denied my request," Greg smiles and takes a mental nore to thank Sherlock for being the stubborn man that he is and for putting up with his brother, "-and said that you were the next best thing, I mean besides John Watson, but you do know how he won't let his little John out of his sight, don't you?"

"We finally agree on something." Greg lay back in his chair, mind reeling, trying to process the bizarre phone call.

He understood why Sherlock didn't want to come out and visit Mycroft, other than the fact that Sherlock never wants to visit his brother in general, he and John were all the way out in America on a case about a "serial killer hamster". Apparently, at one o'clock in the morning, Sherlock had gotten a call from an eight year old girl who was hysterically telling him about how her hamster had killed five people. That was an opportunity he could not miss and needed to be investigated. So, much to John's distaste, the two of them grabbed a plane and flew out the next day to investigate. That was three days ago and before they left Sherlock had told Greg not to call or check up on them, so much to _his_ distaste, Greg had stayed out of the way of the two men and also has been checking up on Mrs. Hudson every day. He worried about that woman whenever Sherlock wasn't around to protect her; she seemed so fragile to him.

"So, I'm assuming that after this phone call you'll be driving over to my place. I've just sent you the address and thirty seconds after you open it the message will self destruct so you may want to get out a pen and pad of paper to write it down because I'm assuming you won't remember it off the top of your head." Mycroft yawn, as if bored by the conversation.

Greg frowned, thinking that what he had was probably a form of mockery.

"I don't want to."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't want to stay with you at your house, it's weird." Greg barks into the phone, not watching his tone. "You can't just tell me to live with you and expect me not just agree like some sort of puppet. I don't even know you!"

"It wasn't a request, Detective Inspector." Mycroft growls.

"Greg." He mumbles, running his free hand though his hair, deep in thought and deep in anger.

"Pardon?" He sounds surprised.

"Call me Greg, Detective Inspector is too formal and besides it'll be a nice break that someone will remember me by name, unlike your younger brother." He grumbles under his breath. "Unlike you, I actually _like _being on a first name basis with people, even when the people are annoying as hell." As soon as he said it, Greg immediately regretted it. He was sure that this was it; Mycroft was now going to empty his bank account and get him out of a job.

"I'd rather if you're not disrespectful towards me, _Greg." _It sounded like saying his name was poison on his lips. "Also, I have no idea on why you say my brother doesn't remember your name because when he suggested your help for me he remembered it exactly, which I now regret because this phone call is turning quite annoying."

Greg bit his lip and stopped his fingers in his hair; Sherlock would only make an effort to remember his name if it was truly significant, so for whatever reason Sherlock wanted _him _to stay with his older brother had to be direly important.

Looking out the window, he saw Sally jump up into the air in triumph and hi-five a few officers while people started exiting the bank. A shady man in a ski mask was being hand cuffed in the background. Turning her head to look at their car, she looked surprised to meet his eyes and threw up two thumbs in the air. He couldn't help but smile, doing the same with his free hand watching her spin around and talk with the other police. He knew that Mycroft had great power, but would he use that against Greg if he denied him of his proposal? Greg didn't want to know and he didn't want to lose anything important in his life because of this man who was equally as stubborn as him.

"Fine," Greg gritted his teeth. "I'll stay with you."

"Really?" Mycroft seemed surprised, but quickly composed himself, regaining his monotone voice. "Okay, like I said, I sent you the address and from your current location I'm expecting to see you in about an hour if you check on Mrs. Hudson like you usually do."

Greg was speechless, not quite sure what to say.

"Also, Greg?"

"Uh, yeah?"

There was a pause on the line. "Good job on the robbery, I'll make sure that your boss knows that it was your division and not whatever his name is that always tries to steal your spot light." Another pause. "People who take credit for what is not theirs don't deserve any credit at all."

One last pause and then the call was over.

_What have I gotten myself into, _Greg sighed, turning on his engine and driving off into an adventure he'll never forget.


End file.
